I’m sure at some point in everyone’s online lives, they’ve been forwarded one of those “you know you’re __________ if…” emails, had a quick chuckle and felt pangs of nostalgia. I’m sitting here listening to the Wonder Years feature on my favourite radio station (an hour every Friday consisting entirely of songs from one year out of the past twenty), happily enjoying my Backstreet’s Back, remembering the days of watching Goosebumps after school, collecting POGs and taping songs off the radio, when I started thinking about what those emails are going to look like when they get sent to kids who’ve grown up in the 2000s (or noughties, as they’re calling it on the Beeb). What do we have today that people 20 years from now are going to reminisce about?

I started thinking about it, and then I started getting angry. Even today, we still have 80s themed clubs and nights out and parties, because everything was amazing and new and great back then (says the girl who only fell out of the womb halfway through). New Wave was so exciting; synthesizers so futuristic, style so bold (I dare you not to fall in love with any man wearing eyeliner, painting half his face in more makeup than me and singing about romance on the dark streets of London). It was so awesome, in recent years it’s made a bit of a comeback, with shops like American Apparel regularly stocking brightly coloured tights, legwarmers, baggy tops and oversized belts, and artists like Late of the Pier, White Rose Movement and the Mary Onettes , armed with keyboards, spiffy haircuts and guyliner, releasing killer indie electronica that could slip easily into any “Best of the 80s” compilation unnoticed. The future of music in recent years was looking pretty good; an off the radar revival of everything new wave with a modern indie twist.

But, let’s face it, these guys aren’t on your everyday radio. They’re not in your Billboard 100 or on the cover of the Rolling Stone. They’re definitely not coming to Winnipeg. So as much as they have my heart unreservedly – people aren’t going to remember them twenty years from now.

So let’s look at the mainstream – what’s crashing the radio waves, taking over the charts and touring all over the world these days? I grew up listening to the Chart Show on Sunday afternoons, eager to see who was in the top ten, and it’s something I’ve carried on doing since my move to Canada, thanks to the wonders of modern technology. I listen to the Official UK Top 40 every Sunday (yes, it’s full of a lot of chuff, a lot of the time, but it’s more for the homesickness/nostalgia factor) and to my horror, this past weekend, in at number two was Westlife, with yet another cover of a song from two years ago.

Westlife was one of those Uber Boy Bands formed by Louis Walsh (of recent X Factor fame) that, due to an unfortunate lack of H1N1 contraction and a lull in anvil production, are still going eleven years later. Still dominating the charts with rubbish covers of decent songs, this time they’ve taken on a Chris Daughtry track, done nothing but added a couple of lame oohs and aahs, and rocketed to the top riding the wave of somebody else’s hard work.

I didn’t mind them in the nineties – they were just like the Backstreet Boys, but Irish! Bonus! Then their manager became a judge on an international talent show, and I guess things got a little scary. What’s this? Real people with actual talent winning the nation’s hearts? I suppose there really wasn’t much else in the way of choice but to nick a bunch of songs everyone knew the words to, get the lads together for a night of karaoke, and release this uninspired bile on the masses.

I suppose my loathing began a couple of years ago when they got a number one with a cover of Michael Buble’s Home from a couple of years previous. When I heard the Daughtry cover this weekend, my curiosity was sufficiently peaked enough to look into just how far other people’s talent has pushed their career, and found 63 covers, tackling the masters (The Eagles, Sinatra, Josh Groban)… and, in I suppose the hope people wouldn’t notice, classics from Nick Carter, Brandy, and various obscure musical soundtracks. I can’t even hazard a guess as to how much money they’ve made sitting on their arses, adding the odd choir and singing other people’s songs. Tossers.

Yes, it makes me rather upset that so much of music today will be remembered for the work of decades past – success seems so easy when something so formulaic becomes the norm; random sample of a decent old track + random rapper + thumping dance beat = $, or do a cover of something that was successful before, add some pretty faces and synthesised strings and you’ve got yourself a number one. I know what I’m going to remember about this decade. Little indie bands who I heard on the radio’s “unsigned” hour and ordered their albums in from halfway round the world. The new new wave which took something nostalgic and creative and made it new and exciting. And bands who’d been together since they were thirteen, played real instruments, wrote great songs about science and love and government conspiracies, and went on to take over the world.

That’s going to be my nostalgia of the ‘noughties’. At least when it comes to music, anyway. What about you?

Not normally one to write about politics or current events, I couldn’t help but hop on the H1N1 discussion. At work, I’ve somehow landed myself the position of Co-Chair of the Workplace Safety and Health Committee (yes, me, I know) and naturally, the topic of H1N1 and subsequent vaccination has been a bit of a hot potato in recent meetings. I’ve found myself very much in the minority when I decided to sit in at lunchtimes and continue to watch Torchwood, while everybody else bundled into their vehicles to hit the nearest vaccination “clinic”.

Shopping centres around the city have been transformed into mass vaccination hotspots; on Friday afternoon I had to make my way past a full news crew and endless winding queues just to be able to buy a book. We were told inititially that everybody should be vaccinated, that Canada had bought more than an ample supply of the vaccine, and there was most definitely enough for everyone. My coworkers started coming in with sore arms, proud of their premature innoculations, and satisfied that their families were now safe from the flu. But then the news started to turn. People not in one of the “at risk” categories were encouraged to hold off and allow those more needy to go ahead first. Doctors’ offices were packed with floods of people. And strange reports started coming in from around the world.

Having been raised on Star Trek and the X Files, any time the government decided to encourage mass injections of something into the entire world’s deltoids was always going to peak my curiosity. And being on the Health and Safety Committee, it was only right that I did my part to educate myself on the possible risks, right? I started seeing Facebook groups popping up on “Protesting the H1N1 Vaccination”, news articles from around the world on how the vaccine was never properly clinically tested – “so far, according to the Health Canada website, there have been no tests on children or those over 60 – for either vaccine. Instead, the federal government is relying largely on results from what Health Canada calls a “mock” vaccine based on an entirely different strain of flu.” The ingredients of the vaccine seem further cause for concern – the biological index of that vaccine includes chicken embryos, formaldehyde, squalene adjuvant, thiomersal (mercury derivative), polysorbate 80 (preservative) and aluminum adjuvant among others listed on the Biotechnology Information Institute website.

And then came the post-vaccination effects: the recently married cheerleader who can now only walk backwards following a freak reaction to the swine flu vaccine (I couldn’t bring myself to watch the video). The jab being linked to 25 deaths in the USA after a letter from the Health Protection Agency, the official body that oversees public health, telling neurologists to be on the alert for a brain disorder that could be triggered by the vaccine. And in a recent study published in the journal Neurotoxicology just last month, the researchers found that primates injected with a single vaccine containing thimerosal suffered significant neurological impairment when compared with those who received a saline solution injection, or no injection at all. Thanks to Marie for the link to that one.

It’s hard, when there’s so much conflicting information flooding the internet, to really know what to do, and it really comes down to a personal choice involving weighing out the pros and cons, and deciding which makes you more comfortable. Or uncomfortable. Of course, statistically you’re more likely to get swine flu than you are to get some horrible mutation/disease/die from the vaccine. And fear plays an enormous part in the decision. Which are you more afraid of? For me, it’s an easy decision. If I’m going to get ill, I’d rather it be from a natural strain of the flu than from a one in however many chance a man-made, untested “solution” going wrong. When I was a kid, people didn’t care about hand sanitisers or breathing masks or worrying what they might catch from being on an bus for 20 minutes on the way home from work. There wasn’t such thing as “correct coughing” into the crook of your arm. You put your hand in front of your mouth and nobody would bat an eyelid. Today, we live in such a state of fear that we’ll blindly inject things into our body if the newspapers and TV make us all afraid enough of H1N1.

Fire me from the Health and Safety Committee, but I’m not getting the H1N1 vaccine. I’ve spent too many hours watching shows that question the government, and recently, doing my research on the flipside of the H1N1 vaccination coin. If you’re debating getting the shot, I’d strongly encourage anyone to make sure you’re fully informed before succumbing and falling prey to the mass hysteria taking over today’s world. I’m going to close with one of my favourite songs right now, which just so happens to touch on the topic of not being controlled or forced into anything – and also just happens to sound kind of like the Doctor Who theme.

Today I’m participating in my very first blog swap thanks to 20sb Blog Swap Day! I’m paired up with the lovely Erin , who was lucky enough to study and travel in Ireland before heading back to the states.

me and my friend kara at our MA graduation

hi! i’m erin from and her heart it is in ireland in honor of the 20sb blog swap i have been paired with the fabulous emily jane! so with both of us at one point living abroad we decided to write about living abroad and finding out where do i belong? and is the grass greener?

so quick back story on my adventures.

 

i studied abroad in ireland my junior year of college for the fall 2005 semester.

fell in looooove with the country, city and everything and had the BEST time ever!

went back to the states, was miserable for 6 months, then lived it up for senior year and applied to go back to ireland for grad school. and moved back in september 2007. absolutely loved most of my time over there, worked hard on my masters degree, had loads of fun, traveled around europe and then had a major life decision to make. i decided to move back to the states in march 2009 and no matter if i was in cork or in the states i would always question where should i be?

but i think i’ve learned a lot from this. while when i was in ireland, i would hate when all my college friends would have a reunion or a wedding and i couldn’t go. but then i was the one frolicking around greece or italy or hiking in the irish mountains. and now while i am extremely lucky and grateful to have the most amazing teaching job, some days especially when i get the emails from aer lingus with super low flights around europe, it makes me wish i could just pop somewhere for the weekend. but it has been great to run down to philly for the weekend to cheer on my college rowing team, or go up to connecticut to see my college roomie and to know i can be at my little’s wedding next summer. i know i moved back to the states to continue with other things i wanted in my life. i wanted to teach, i wanted to be closer to friends and family, i wanted to start my “grown up”ness and i am absolutely loving my life. while i LOVED living in ireland, it never felt permanent. i wanted my own place, a car and to not feel like every time i opened my mouth i was being judged. and if leaving the states to move to ireland was one of the happiest and most exciting days of my life… leaving ireland in march was one of the saddest, but at the same time also exciting. because i had no idea what life would hold out for me. and i’ve just had the most amazing 6 months and i can say i am happy to have moved back.

 

and i think that is what life is about, knowing that you are happy with the decisions you make and trying not to worry about what if…. i can look back on my 2 years in ireland knowing that i had the best time, and also that i was able to accomplish one of my goals and that i was doing something so awesome that most of my friends would have killed for…

 

so while the grass might seem greener just remember that it is your life and you have to be happy and that every opportunity has things you love and things you don’t.

 

along the river lee in the city that will always be my home

Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about Things I Want To Achieve in life, you know, the big stuff. What I want my profession to be in ten or fifteen years. Which things I want to conquer, and why. What I’m going to do to make a difference in the world. This was all brought about on Friday, when I took my biggest step yet in getting over my anxiety, something that’s socially crippled me for a larger chunk of my life than I’d like to admit.

I taught my very first class. And after a week leading up to it full of restless nights, I actually did it, and left the room slightly shaky – but entirely overwhelmed, with a sense of accomplishment I haven’t felt in a very long time. And I have to thank my newfound faith, and the prayers and encouragement of people close to me who’ve reminded me that I wasn’t put on this earth to be afraid and held back by fear, and if I wanted to make a different in people’s lives, however small, I was bloody well going to do it. So I did, and now I get to continue to push myself, continue to grow, and continue to get better at it, all the while hopefully passing on some kind of knowledge to those who may not have it, who may use something I said to feel like they can do something too. Which is pretty cool.

I also had a really cool lunch with one of my coworkers on Friday, where we sat cross-legged at little tables, eating sushi and debating the different thought processes people have. I did a brief stint studying psychology in university, and though I never finished, I never lost my fascination for everything encompassing it, and in the office we often talk about different personality types and how they relate to careers, hobbies, etc. I’ve taken the Myers-Brigg several times, always with the same result – an INFJ, making up a whopping 1% of the population. INFJ’s are known as “Protectors” or “Counsellors” with an emphasis on heightened emotional sensitivity, introversion, creativity and caring. Which is all very accurate. So then why, in my coworker’s words, “why do you want to prove you can be in the spotlight?” Why do I want to be able to be comfortable in front of people?

“Because I used to be”, I answered. Which wasn’t a lie; go back ten years and you’ll find a girl heavily invested in performing; a girl who went to stage school every week, put on talent shows, organised fundraisers and sang her heart out in shows and bands. Go back fifteen and you’ll find a child who was always first to volunteer to take the solo part of the chorus in school musicals, always the first to narrate when reading stories. My childhood formative years were full of extraversion, creativity and a love of the limelight. But fastforward to those “adult” formative years, between 18 and 23, and you see a different story. Those were the years my anxiety grew progressively worse, and I always looked back and blamed the series of dysfunctional, slightly abusive relationships I kept getting myself into. How could a girl ever believe in herself when everyone she ever loved treated her terribly? Looking back, all I can say is it was a huge learning experience, but it definitely left me feeling pretty rubbish about myself, and knocked my confidence completely.

So why DID I want to push myself out of my comfort zone so badly? When being in front of people made me feel physically sick, my head was full of fear and my body started shaking, why did I so badly want to push myself into this situation? I wish I knew my Intraversion/Extraversion scores numerically; maybe, as my coworker suggested, I was on the borderline. 51% Introvert, 49% Extrovert, though if you only came into my life in that period, you’d never know it. I asked myself why, if I was naturally an introvert, I felt so uncomfortable being alone – felt the need for company, to be out and about and doing things. But then if I was so close to being an extrovert, why being in the spotlight made me want to run for the hills. It’s a very interesting time in my life, and I don’t have the answers yet.

But I do know that I can do it. I can put myself out there and be absolutely fine in front of other people, because there’s evidence to show that I’ve done it before. Sure, I might be quiet by nature, and a pretty tough period in my life may have led me to believe I didn’t have anything worth giving to the outside world. But things have become clear to me, in the last year. I used to let the fear of other people’s judgment control my life. And it’s a REALLY tough thought pattern to let go of. But if I don’t, I’m never going to be all I can be. And whose opinion about me really matters? The people I love, and the people I’m putting myself out there for – people I want to help. I was lucky enough to get a pretty good education, and I’ve had opportunities in life that now allow me to be in a position to share some of that education with people who may never have had the chance. Seeing someone at 10:00 on Friday looking at me so lost, and then two hours later fully engaged and asking questions and looking a whole lot more confident left me feeling pretty good.

So I’m going to keep working at it. I may never be back dancing on stage, or fronting a rock band again. But I can keep pushing myself to be in front of people, with the goal of getting back to who I was meant to be, and hopefully helping other people out a little bit. As for performing in front of anybody again – well, isn’t that what cats are for?

Self indulgent and all, but I have an hour to kill before dinner, and this is way more entertaining than laundry. Had to after I saw it at Misguided Me.

A – Advocate For: Providing help for the malaria situation in Africa, child sponsorship, proper spelling and grammar, animals

B – Best Feature: My knack for finding new UK music and TV when they’re very much not available to the colonies

C – Could do without: People kicking the backs of chairs in concerts and movies

D – Dreams & Desires: Be able to speak in public without HUGE amounts of nervousness and shaking

E – Essential items: BBC radio, Rose Kitten, the boy, at least 3 cups of tea a day

F – Favourite pastime: Singing songs off musicals when nobody’s home

G – Good at: Pretending I have straight hair, decorating cupcakes, finding typos

H – Have never tried: Smoking

I – If I Had a Million Dollars: Pay off debt, travel to India, Italy, Sweden and all the other countries I want to visit, go volunteer in Africa for a month, buy a house, and maybe get a nose job

J – Junkie For: British chocolate, BBC radio, X Factor

K – Kindred Spirit: Kyla

L – Little Known Fact: I listen to a lot of Scandinavian power metal, and I did Jiu-Jitsu for years

M – Memorable Moment: The Muse concert in London, singing along with 70,000 other people

N – Never Again Will I: Try and bleach my own hair

O – Occasional Indulgence: Expensive tea

P – Profession: Part graphic designer, part advertising purchaser, part health and safety chair, part facilitator, but full time nerd

Q – Quote: “A lot of people say there’s a fine line between genius and insanity. I don’t think there’s a fine line, I actually think there’s a yawning gulf. You see some poor bugger scuffling up the road with balloons tied to his ears, he’s not going home to invent a rocket, is he?” – Bill Bailey

R – Reason to Smile: A cat to cuddle, and to occasionally push along the carpet while she paddles along

S – Sorry About: My younger self’s naivety

T – Things That Are Worrying You Right Now: When the investigation on my bank account hacking is going to be finished and when I’ll get my $1000 back

U – Uninterested In: Office politics

V – Very Scared Of: Losing those I love, things with tentacles

W – Worst Habits: Worrying about things I can’t control, knuckle-cracking

X – X Marks My Ideal Vacation Spot: Anywhere with sunny skies, blue water and a steady +27 degrees

Y – Yummiest Desert: Butterscotch Angel Delight

Z – Zodiac Sign: Gemini, just about

So this weekend was pretty decent. Unfortunately I didn’t get to hang with my favourite girls (as a result of a nasty case of sickness and exhaustion on both their parts – and a copious amount of hugs goes out to both of them!) but instead I went to a wedding social, which was actually tonnes of fun. I watched the X Factor, lazed in pyjamas, cuddled with the cat – oh, and I MAXED OUT MY OVERDRAFT HALFWAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY IN MONTREAL. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, today I was informed I was victim of my very first bank fraud crime – my access card number had been stolen along with my PIN, sent somewhere in Montreal, and almost a thousand dollars withdrawn. I was left, this lunchtime, with a sympathetic banker on the line in one hand and a pile of declined debit till receipts in the other, sadly looking at a salad I couldn’t pay for. I, naturally, in true to self fashion, immediately started crying in the middle of the food court (until I remembered my leftover cash from Saturday’s social, took my salad and ran). How awful is that? I went to get a new card, new PIN etc. after work, and was informed it could take a few weeks for the investigation to be completed and “proved” fraudulent before any of the money was returned, so that leaves me in a pretty rubbish position for the next couple of weeks. But I suppose that’s what Visa cards are for, right?

On an entirely separate note however, the good news is that the competition I was in from September – October, which so many of you faithfully spent chunks of your day voting for me MULTIPLE times, has finished Round 1. I think I might have made the finals – I’ll find out for sure in early November, but if I have, I’ll be in the December 14th issue of Wedding Bells magazine all across Canada, and have a one in seven chance of scoring a $5,000 wedding dress and an all-inclusive honeymoon to the Mayan Riviera (yes please). So I just wanted to let out a little SQUEEOMG – and thank everybody for their fierce and faithful support in getting me this far. I’m truly humbled to have had not only my friends but also people I don’t even know voting for me, and I’ll post more when I hear anything at all about the next round…

This week is going by at a crazy pace; I have deadlines, meetings, reports, training and my very own class to teach at the end of it – I’m whizzing through it fuelled by caffeine in the mornings, a glass of wine in the evening and the thought that at the end of this week, I will well and truly have faced my biggest fear in life having been crippled by it for the last few years – and once I get through it, I’ll get to keep going, teaching weekly and getting more and more experience standing in front of people and actually teaching. Yes, I’m definitely terrified. But I’m also excited. And I have a sneaky feeling everything’s going to be just fine… and this weekend will be a very celebratory one indeed.

As you may know, I’ve been experiencing an ongoing battle with a chronic pain condition that started about eight or nine years ago, shortly after I arrived in Canada. As a sixteen year old child, healthcare practitioners didn’t take my complaints of being unable to sit for extended periods without constant pain along the entire right side of my back seriously, but encouraged me to come back and get cracked, adjusted, or whatever it may be. I stopped going for treatment several years ago because nothing was working; I became discouraged, poor from not having healthcare benefits, and resigned myself to having to live with it. A couple of years ago I had an accident resulting in a compression injury to my upper back and being couch-bound with the latest in conical fashions stylishly wrapping my neck. The injury exacerbated the ongoing pain, and for the last year and a half since, I’ve been in constant pain extending from my right shoulder to my right hip, along the entire stretch of the right hand side of my spine. It doesn’t stop. I have a heating pad strapped to my office chair and often take breaks to stretch because it gets too bad to be able to sit for the whole day. I get home and find I can’t even sit upright on the sofa, watching TV with my boy, because it hurts too much. The only time I’m without pain is when I’m
lying on my back, face up. I can’t exercise, go dancing, or go bowling. The temperature’s dropping and I’m finding it increasingly more painful to walk home at night.

Six months ago, I finally qualified for some benefits through work. At last! Horribly overpriced benefits, but mandatory benefits, so I intended to take full advantage and try and get this thing sorted out. I went to physiotherapists, massage therapists, a chiropractor several times a week, an acupuncturist, my family doctor, an ergonomist and today a doctor in sports medicine. I was even a “case study” for ten weeks for a student at the massage therapy college. A common conclusion from several of these people: myofascitis, or myofascial pain syndrome. Huh? The symptoms fit the definition of fibromyalgia, but a determining factor in that is that the symptoms are in all four quadrants of the body. Mine’s all packed into one. So the condition was explained.

The “fascia” encases all the muscles in the body, allowing them to move together, maintaining structure and acting as a shock absorber. It’s a dense connective tissue that interpenetrates all muscles, bones, nerves and blood vessels from head to toe, and in my case, has become so tight around all the muscles on the right side of my back that they are held continuously in spasm, unable to relax. This accounts for the pain being there ALL the time.

Every treatment I’ve had has done nothing. I’m 24 years old – “young people don’t HAVE these sorts of back problems”, I’m told. I’ve been sent for X-rays, blood tests, you name it, but each practitioner starts from scratch and none of them communicate with each other. Apparently “every trigger point is active”, making it difficult to withstand any pressure – massages are excruciating. Today I went to a sports medicine clinic armed with the advice of an ergonomist, who’d told me if anyone would understand it, it would be a doctor in sports medicine. Long story short, I came back from the appointment, arrived at work, and promptly burst into tears. It was the same thing I’d experienced everywhere else. Unnecessary x-rays, stretches, and a referral somewhere else.

What do you do when everything you’ve tried has failed? When you’re experiencing something so apparently uncommon that nobody knows what to do, and passes you off to somebody else?

I talked to a coworker I’m close with, who had some encouraging advice. I don’t make a habit of writing about my spiritual/religious experiences as it is something that is relatively new to me, but a lot has happened to me in the last few months that has no other explanation. A year ago I was a wreck; nervous, self-conscious, no self esteem and forever plagued by the thought of what other people must be thinking about me.  David came into my life, I got a wonderful job, and everything started me on a journey that’s led me to where I am today.  I’ve read books, prayed with coworkers, had highly spiritual experiences and been part of what can only be described as miracles.  I’ve learned that I wasn’t put here to doubt myself, worry about what other people think, or be anything less than the good person I want to be.  I’ve learned to unload my anxieties and keep praying, and I’m sitting here having done presentations to other reps in the field, developing a curriculum and my very own class scheduled to start at the end of the month.  I never would’ve thought it possible before I learned all I have.  I kept trying to solve my issues myself, and failing.  When I put my trust and faith in God, I grew.  My coworker instantly posed the question to me: what if that’s what I need to be free from this pain? I’ve spent years trying to solve it myself, seeing different therapists and doctors and healers with absolutely no results.  What if I need to do with my pain what I did with my anxiety? She said her church had a “Healing Prayer” every so often, and had personal experience with debilitating pain being instantly cured as a result.  She said she’d go with me if I was willing to give it a try.  “No more tears, Grasshopper” she told me.  And it just so happens there’s one this weekend.

So, this Saturday night I’ll be experiencing something very new to me.  I’m putting my faith in what she’s told me and hoping for healing.  I never thought I’d overcome my fear of public speaking, and I’m amazed every day at what’s happened.  Maybe this is what I need to do.  How incredible would it be, to be able to tell that story, and be free to live life properly again?

It’s been over a month since I last wrote; far from lack of stories to tell, moreso being swept up in them!

My biggest news over the last few weeks is that I, little Emily, am going to be marrying my true beloved, in a little over a year. He asked me in the most romantic way I could have imagined, full of surprise, rose petals, beautiful music, heart and soul-touching words, and about a hundred tealight candles (which he painstakingly extinguished scientifically, one by one with a little cup over the top, so we didn’t get wax on the carpet. I stopped trying to help after my first attempt ended up with wax on the carpet), and through gushing sobs, I most definitely said yes. I’ve got my two favourite girls on board, eager to rush around with me trying on silly dresses, our families are more than thrilled, and we’re going to have a beautiful sparkly December wedding just in time for Christmas next year. Planning everything is lots of fun, but what’s most important isn’t the shade of the dresses or how many snowflakes should go on top of a cupcake, it’s the fact that I’m lucky enough to have had this wonderful man come back into my life, six years after we first met, and be spending the rest of my life with him.

More news – he quit working for Mike Kelly! No more being given no responsibility, no more watching a team get demoralised and yelled at and not being able to do anything about it, just a perfect match in a new teaching job, French immersion, high level math, and coaching a brand new football team.  Sure, it’s a little tough at first – he’s replacing someone who left absolutely nothing in the way of preparation, school’s already started and for the next two months it means staying until 7:30 every night for football season and getting up at 5:00 every morning to prepare lesson plans en français, but once we get into the swing of it it’s going to be wonderful – he’ll be using his gifts and talents to teach and inspire, and I’ll be here with a warm dinner and a hug and a couple of hours at the end of it.  Things are changing for us, but we’re hanging tight and getting ready for the ride.

On a separate note, I spent the last couple of days of this week at our annual company retreat.  I say annual because they’ve been doing it for the last eight or nine years, but this was definitely my first one and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.  We were given a sheet of paper about a week before we left, saying “my dream is to…” followed by a big empty space.  We were instructed to dream big, really big, something bigger than we could achieve on our own.  And then came the retreat.  It started off hilariously – every car was a different team on the “Amazing Race” to Cedarwood Camp out by Lac-du-Bonnet.  We received a series of envelopes with about 5 tasks to complete in each set of 20 minutes, ranging from taking a team picture with blue tongues, to pumping gas for a complete stranger, to having a picture with real policemen, to finding the closest 70-year-old and posing with them and their ID.  It was a frantic, wonderful morning full of adventure, coffee and running around, and we finally arrived at Cedarwood… about an hour and a half later than everybody else, thanks to the quiz we got so focused on in the car that we missed our turning! The next few days were filled with an interactive lecture from John C. Maxwell, an accompanying study guide to his latest book, Put Your Dream to the Test: 10 Questions that Will Help You See It and Seize It - something that caused a great deal of personal reflection, analysis, encouragement and tears.  Not a lot of things have changed my life, but I can safely say I was moved so incredibly much by these two days (including a very personal spiritual experience in a devotional led by our boss) that I came home with a new sense of purpose, and a new drive, determination, and most importantly belief that I really am on my way to achieving my dream.

I realised this weekend that everything and everyone I hold dear in my life today have come back to me within the last year or so; people have been placed along my path to help guide me along my way from where I started, lost and so scared, to where I want to be; confident, unafraid and able to help and inspire other people. 

I’m in a really good place right now, and I want to thank those people in my life that have helped get me here, and I can’t wait to put everything I learned into practice, and see where I go from here.

As this week comes to a close, I find myself with a compulsion to write about it. I feel as though this entire week has been satiated with sign after sign of things really and truly changing for the better. I’ve had such difficulty in recent months with finding my place, believing in myself, pushing myself forward and I’ve spent much of the time writing and dreaming about how things will be different one day… and I truly feel this week has been the turning point.

I was supposed to start a second job. I went for the interview and was offered the position on the spot, with training to commence the following week. This, however, was a month ago – the training was postponed until this upcoming week, and yesterday I had another call saying they’d hit a work shortage, and would have to put the training on hold indefinitely. I’d been pondering the effects of having to work 13 hour days and how it was going to affect my everyday performance, health, and general well-being, and lo and behold, I get a call telling me I don’t need to be there. Again. Hard not to see it as a case of question asked, question answered. I’ve asked the boy to help me budget, and with summer days looking ever more scarce, I think I’ll be doing a whole lot more staying in anyway, so hopefully I’ll not need that second job after all.

Another issue: my constant, paralysing fear of speaking in front of people. In meetings, in classrooms, anywhere. I’ll psych myself up so badly that by the time my turn to talk rolls around, my voice has been overpowered by a thundering heartbeat and trembling limbs. But interestingly, this week I had opportunity after opportunity thrown at me to overcome this. I got offered a photoshoot gig for a New York clothing line, with a proper photography company, selling real stuff. I was terrified – standing in front of a camera, having to be good enough to sell product, never having taken coaching or anything of the sort. Why did they want me? I was the short girl whose missing inches spoke louder to agencies than she ever could. I was the girl with the unruly hair, the small chest and big hips. The girl five years older than 90% of her competition. Why did they want me? Still, it was a chance to go in there, wear beautiful things, get pampered a bit and spend an evening in the ever-elegant Fort Garry Hotel. And it went amazingly! So wonderfully so that I was informed excitedly the next day that I “looked like I’d just walked off the cover of a high fashion magazine”, and they wanted to book me – and pay me – for the next two weekends. To be in a fantasy “women with weapons” calendar to be sold across the states, and to sell an enormous, beautiful black gothic wedding dress. I’m incredibly pumped, but my self-doubts are finding it hard to keep it up with things like this happening. Maybe I’m not as awkward and unappealing as I’d always thought.

The third sign came in the form of a project I’m helping organise at work. Over the last month, I’ve arranged scheduling and worked with a film crew for a couple of documentaries we’re doing. I’m fine being creative and setting things up from behind the scenes, but on Tuesday they hit me with a proposal. They wanted me to be the voice to narrate the entire finished product. This meant speaking, and being very good at speaking, for 50 people a week to hear my voice promote our services. I was given the (extensively long 12 page) script, sat in front of a microphone with two media guys and their camera equipment, and told to go. I was terrified. My whole life, I’ve allowed my nerves to get the better of me. Always speaking too quickly and too quietly (and in an accent, too) for people to be able to understand. So when they told me to slow down after my first read-through, I went into panic mode. My skills were being tested and I was failing miserably, just like I always had. I went upstairs to grab some water, promptly burst into tears and sent one of my coworkers to do it for me. I proceeded to go home and beat myself up about how stupid I was, what a bad impression I made, etc… and then went back to work the next day. Where I was told they’d called and said they wanted me to try again. They said I had the voice that was “perfect” for this, and sent me a big long supportive email empathising with my anxiety. As I was talking with my boss, a student walked by with his young son, and informed us that the “only reason he brings the boy is because he likes her voice”. It was pretty hard to ignore all the signs around me pointing to the idea that maybe I could do this after all. So the owner came down, set me up in a little room, and we did a read through. It was fine; encouraging, supportive, and he even asked me to read a script for another video they were doing – and to be an “on file” voice for their company.

This was ridiculous. I’ve had a week of facing my fears… and being shown very loudly and very clearly just how unfounded they really are. I can’t express my amazement at how I’ve just been shown that my thoughts aren’t reality… and the support of everyone surrounding me has just blown me away. The inside voice that’s always told me I can’t do it has finally been silenced. I’m ending this week on a total high, and ready, really ready, to face whatever comes up.

Next week I’ve even volunteered to facilitate a weekly workshop. The girl of 2 months ago would’ve cut a hole in the ground and thrown herself hard into it at the very thought. As Switchfoot put it, this is your life. And if I can pull this one off, I think I’m well on my way to being who I really want to be.

Every weekend or so, my lovely father and I go for lunch at Perkins to catch up on the week’s events. It’s always nice to spend an hour or two with my dad, especially on a lovely day like today. Perkins isn’t known for being overly posh; it’s cheap, family-friendly comfort food – today’s visit, however, was probably our last.

I decided to get a “Farmer’s Market” salad – full of spinach, candied pecans, strawberries, feta cheese… it sounded delightful. Until I went to take my second bite, and half a strawberry covered in a slightly unwelcoming skin of grey-green mold sat on the end of my fork. Our waiter was mortified, and proceeded to get the manager, who instead of taking the opportunity to apologise, arrived red, flustered, and clearly panicked. She brought back another salad, this time a Caesar (I’d since lost my cravings for fruit)… which was full of half-brown lettuce, and a lovely hair on top. I decided my dad (the man who’d had Poulin’s in over the weekend for mice and told them that for $300, he “expected their heads on little spikes set up on the front lawn to scare off all their mates”) would be better than I would at dealing with the situation; he did, and we didn’t get charged, and left with a $25 gift voucher… although why we’d want to go back, I’m not entirely sure…

Makes you think, though, doesn’t it? With Gordon Ramsay on his fifth series of Kitchen Nightmares, a story in the local paper about several of the city’s restaurants being closed down for sub-standard food hygiene, along with the recent Sizzling Wok incident, it kind of makes you wonder what really goes on behind the scenes…